


Disquiet of the Soul

by cadkitten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, Confessions, Dancing, Gen, M/M, Mentions of drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: A fleeting memory of his brief kiss with Nicky the year before bounced around in his brain, left him uneasy for a moment before drawing the lines he had at the time and trying to re-map them to the people he knew well enough to understand motive now.





	Disquiet of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> For my writing challenge #25 Dance.  
> Beta: Kate1zena  
> Song[s]: Pipe Dreams playlist - https://open.spotify.com/user/radhika.sheth/playlist/5n3HVPtfps4BMByTH82tKg?si=Rx4j0xUf

Nicky's hand felt foreign in his own, different than how Andrew's or even what his mother's had felt like so many years ago. His hand was larger than Neil's, slightly damp from the clammy air around them, his grip insistent, but not claiming. If Neil had to hazard a guess, it was the grip of a friend. It was firm enough not to lose Neil along their path toward the dance floor, but loose enough that if he stopped or pulled his hand away, he'd slip right through Nicky's fingers. It was decidedly _comfortable_.

It still felt strange thinking about their little group as friends. He had a resting place, people who cared so much about him they'd forgiven every lie that had ever left his lips. He had _home_ in the depths of their words, in the press of the keys in his pocket, in the warmth of Andrew's mouth, and in this grip on his hand and the excitement in Nicky's eyes when he'd said 'yes' to learning how to dance. His mind slid back over Bee's words, when she'd let slip that Nicky had considered Neil a friend, even when Neil Josten was nothing but a lie, a fleeting concept instead of a concrete truth. His fingers gripped a little tighter against Nicky's as he was guided onto the dance floor.

There were too many people here, too much that could happen and his back wasn't covered. Bodies pressed close and Neil's senses still told him to run, to flee from whatever horrible idea this was. His breath caught, but then Nicky was turning him around, drawing Neil back against him and settling his hands on his hips. 

"This okay?" His voice was hard to hear over the brain-numbing pound of music, but he managed anyway, just nodding his consent to what was happening.

His senses relaxed and he wondered if Nicky had done that on purpose, if he understood in some small way what Andrew had identified within minutes of meeting him. A fleeting memory of his brief kiss with Nicky the year before bounced around in his brain, left him uneasy for a moment before drawing the lines he had at the time and trying to re-map them to the people he knew well enough to understand motive now. He'd thought then that Andrew had been the perpetrator of that incident, had perhaps _encouraged_ Nicky to give him whatever had been in his mouth that evening, but now he wasn't so sure. The idea of Andrew allowing such a thing to happen was absurd. It was on his terms or no terms, which meant Nicky had likely acted alone. There was one rough outline of an idea as to why he'd have done it, the barest hint that perhaps it had been something to bring him back down from the cracker dust, to level him back out again before he'd run in a panic. 

Only... he _had_ run in a panic and that sent him in the other direction. Perhaps Nicky had given him an out, something to shove him into enough of a gear to get shit done. The bitter taste played on his senses as he let Nicky's hands guide him through a few of the less lewd dance moves, his senses cataloging the movement even while most of his brain was focused on unraveling this particular mystery. 

Sure, he could have asked, could have brought it up and hoped Nicky told him the truth, but he'd seen the pain in Nicky's eyes too many times to think he'd not hurt him by asking. While Neil was many things, he was not the intentional bringer of pain to Nicky's life. Not when he saw Hell written behind those eyes. _Not_ when he'd seen what kind of man fathered him and what kind of woman stood by his father's side. Especially _not_ when he saw who Nicky was behind closed doors, in the quiet moments between his sweet smiles and his bursting personality. Inside, Nicky was just as broken as the rest of them, and he held no intention of opening those doors to find an answer that barely mattered in the end.

Somewhat distantly he realized the music had changed and felt the way Nicky was moving differently behind him, though making no move to stop Neil's duplication of the prior movements, instead letting him do his thing while Nicky clearly took the beat as a new challenge for a whole new set of dancing rules. The minutes ticked by, the music verging into the kind that usually left Neil warily watching the dance floor, almost certain someone would go too far in public because of it, and still Nicky made no move to teach anything new until finally, Neil cast a look over his shoulder, finding most of the happy desperation washed away from Nicky's eyes, seeing instead a painful quiet in their depths, and he understood – this was Nicky's silent apology. Their minds weren't so far apart in the end, Neil's wondering why and Nicky's whispering the truth of what he'd done; Neil knew he had to ask no matter what it opened inside Nicky. If only because it would drain the festering wound to do so. 

He turned, leaving his back open, stepping into Nicky's space and plunging them deeper into the crowd, further from the prying eyes he knew were up on the balcony above. His hands rested on Nicky's shoulders, their eyes locked, and he leaned in closer, doing what he could to pitch his voice for Nicky alone and yet be heard over the ever-increasing volume of the club. 

"Why'd you do it?"

Nicky's lips parted, but he didn't reply, instead his hand came up to take Neil's own and suddenly, they were weaving through the dance floor until they ended up near the staircase where Nicky let him go. They stood close, close enough others would make assumptions, not that Neil cared about that. Nicky rested his palm on the wall, the other pushing his hair back from his face, and finally he answered. 

"I wanted to help you. I knew how Andrew could be, how he pushes too far sometimes and he was going to. I pushed you over the edge myself because the fall would be shorter."

"You meant to take me down." Not really a question, more of a revelation. He'd meant to take Neil out of the game so Andrew would stop.

The knowledge locked home and pieces began to fall into place around it, leaving Neil feeling oddly apathetic. It didn't bother him like it should have. In reality, his lack of self-preservation really should have been more obvious than it had been when Andrew had pointed it out. He'd been drugged not once but twice and he still felt barely anything about the experience. 

He lifted one shoulder, letting it fall a second later, his head tilting back to rest on the wall. "I forgave you a long time ago." It was what Nicky needed to know, the important piece of information in a sea of half-formed responses. Pushing away from the wall and slipping past him, he glanced back only once to make sure Nicky was following him as he trailed up the stairs and back toward their table. Hoisting himself up beside Andrew, he pulled the tray closer and plucked up a sickly sweet looking drink Andrew had clearly been nursing and knocked it back. His eyes met Andrew's and there was an unfamiliar heat in them, a question and half an accusation rolled into the silence. Leaning closer, Neil tipped his head, letting his tongue slide over his teeth and waiting on Andrew to do something about the possessive anger reflecting in his eyes. He _had_ disappeared with Nicky for longer than the trip up the stairs took, had been gone from his line of sight for far too long for Andrew to be happy. _But_ , he also wasn't accusing, wasn't jabbing fingers like he once would have, and that gave Neil hope about how far Andrew had come.

Andrew's fingers closed around the second shot of the same thing Neil had just downed, tipped the glass and swallowed it in one smooth motion. The glass clinked back on the tray and then Andrew's hand was around the back of his neck, his knee sliding between Neil's, and the heat in his eyes was something else, something darker and much more desperate. 

"Yes or no?"

"Yes," the word came out feather-light, a whisper lost in the chaos of the club, and then Andrew's lips were on his own, drinking him in as if he held the only nourishment on the face of the planet. He kissed as if there wasn't going to be a tomorrow and Neil found he appreciated that about him.

Something lit in the pit of his stomach, flame flickering to life where there hadn't ever been anything before Andrew. His breath stuck and his lips parted, Andrew's tongue taking, discovering, and Neil floated on it, on the intensity of it until he was released, yanked back into his place by Andrew's hand and then his touch was gone and Andrew was sitting like nothing had happened at all.

Neil's hands shook as he reached for another shot, only to have Andrew remove it from his reach and turn the tray toward the others, leaving different shots in front of Neil. There was no explanation for the actions, but one look at Nicky's face and Neil knew he'd been about to get one of the shots with Aaron's allowance of cracker dust in it. His hands settled on another shot and when Andrew didn't try to take it, he shot a questioning look at Nicky and received a small nod in return. Picking it up, he knocked back half of it and shoved the other part toward Andrew, watching as he caught the glass and lifted it to his lips like nothing in the world was wrong or out of place about drinking half a shot.

The glass joined the other empties and Neil settled on the stool, the flavor of too sweet alcohol and sour whiskey riding on his tongue just above the heady flavor of Andrew himself and the memory of Nicky's bitter kiss. Neil licked his lips and cast Nicky another glance, mouthed, "I forgive you," and watched his shoulders sag in relief. He'd have to remind him, perhaps more often than he'd like to, but if he could somehow retire the guilt of this one thing in Nicky's mind, then perhaps they could truly be friends. After all, friends looked out for one another and that's all Nicky had been trying to do for Neil and it was what Neil was trying to do for him now. A favor for a favor.

Andrew's fingertips ghosted over his thigh, not even really a touch, and Neil glanced at him, reading the questions in his gaze, the concern a layer somewhere far beneath the surface, and he let his determination shine through everything else as he stared him down. There were no words for this, nothing he could ever say to Andrew about what Nicky had done and he knew it. Andrew would gut him for an offense so large and Nicky knew it, had known it before he acted, and yet, he'd gone out of his way to try to do what he could. 

The weight of that settled around Neil, a strange sensation of caring sliding into place, and he allowed the clammy grip on his heart. These people were _his_ home and he'd protect them with all he had, even if it meant protecting them from one another.


End file.
